BY THIS THING CAUGHT
Is this what is called love,
that for which tears run at it’s end.
No,
it’s more than tears, far beyond kisses
and is found high above.
Perhaps infatuation is it’s name
for it draws and compels as the
moon plays the tide,
yet, it is not the same.
What is this, that few of us ever feel.
It has no title to call it by,
it is a knowing, a state of being
that shows you that life is real.
It is a melding of two by single thought,
requiring no words to convey.
only eyes that meet in silence
to smile at being by this thing caught.
Beautiful poetry Nigel. As you so poetically say, there are few words that get even close to describing this feeling.
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Thank you Davy.
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Lovely, as always, Nige! Wonderfully expressed.
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Thank you Colleen.
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You make any day a Valentine’s Day with beauty such as this. And I’m not referring to the commercial disaster of Feb 14th 🙂
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Ah Diana, so young yet so cynical, though I agree entirely. And thank you !
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My pleasure kind Sir!
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